Safe
by scribblemyname
Summary: Rogue and Gambit couldn't—or wouldn't—compromise, so they had to find another way to meet in the middle.
1. Prologue: on the outside looking in

**A/N:** Story prompted by **whipsy**. Also, thanks to **Rogue in Rouge**, whose amazing, wonderful story _It Takes Two, To Practice_, helped put me in the right mood to write this fic. This one's a multi-chapter. Hope you like. I won't be working on any other major fanfiction (I promised someone an _Awake_ squee! fest and _Insurgent_ countdown, so some ficlets may occur) until this one is finished. Testing my own ability to do so.

* * *

**Safe**

* * *

_on the outside looking in..._

They nearly tore the roof off before Logan did anything. Every day almost, Rogue and Gambit would square off over something: unnecessary risks in the Danger Room or in a battle, not touching him, never leaving her alone, mangled favorite recipes, keeping secrets from her, _lying_, prying or nagging him, false assumptions, preconceptions... The list was endless and enough to make the rest of the teams wonder why the two stuck it out at all.

Gambit had pursued a relationship with Rogue from the day he stepped foot in the door and asked to join the X-Men, and nobody doubted the sincerity of their good moments: the flirting, the banter, the laughter, and the simple affection shining in their eyes. "They'll work it out," Ororo kept saying hopefully. Logan didn't think they would, but he let them try until he finally got sick of it.

He finally did.

Which is why he ended up slamming both southerners apart and against the wall in the media room, each held by a set of threatening claws. Rogue should have been surprised—usually Logan favored her over the Cajun—but she was too mad at Gambit to think about that.

"Now that I got your attention," Logan began, "I want to take a moment for you both to realize how strange it is for _me_ to step in as a voice of reason."

_That_ got their attention.

"But then, you both _usually_ manage to act like adults."

He released them then. They straightened their clothes and didn't look at each other.

Logan shook his head. "If you two can't compromise, find some other way to meet in the middle before you tear each other apart." With that, he stalked away, leaving them alone to figure it out.

He'd give them half an hour, he decided, then see what they'd come up with.

* * *

Logan may have been the kind of person to give a guy and girl some privacy when they were dealing with _personal_ issues, like figuring out how to not kill each other when they disagreed, but Kitty and Kurt _had_ been occupying the media room when they were so rudely interrupted, and the petite phaser was more than a little interested in listening. It was the work of a moment to phase into the wall, peek out just a tiny bit, and get in a good position to hear all the juicy details.

Rogue had pulled an absolutely typical Rogue and blown up at Gambit for sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her close. If she'd merely squirmed away, maybe it wouldn't have turned into another shouting match, but it had, and even now, they eyed each other warily in the tension left behind. From what Kitty could figure (and she had girlfriend-slash-roommate conversations to back her up) Rogue genuinely couldn't understand why her reticence concerning physical contact left him angry (it's not like he hadn't read the warning label). Gambit, on the other hand, genuinely didn't get why the tiniest forward progress in their relationship sent them spiraling back into her dangerously volatile temper and netted him another round from her razor tongue. Kitty knew. He had grumbled about it under his breath enough times for her to get the gist.

"Compromise, huh?" Rogue crossed her arms and blew fluffy white bangs out of her eyes. Breaking silence required some bolstering of the defenses, and she favored physical gestures.

But Gambit didn't look at her arms. His gaze flicked to her hair, the first real compromise they'd ever made. He'd asked her to leave her hair curly once in a while, and she had.

That seemed to make her angry all over again. What compromise had he ever made for her? Kitty couldn't think of even one. He still smoked, still went all touchy-feely after Rogue demanded he stop, still flirted, still kept horrible hours, still stole. List went on.

"So?" Rogue demanded.

Burning red eyes narrowed at her change in tone, but he didn't take the bait. Great way to get the Wolverine back in here and deciding their lives for them, that would be, and Gambit was clearly done with being dictated to by an elder. He even ignored most of the Professor's advice, something which always puzzled Kitty. He was living in the man's _house_. Rogue, on the other hand, was another story. Gambit took terms from her far more often than from anyone else.

Kitty paused her thought-stream at that. Would that be considered a compromise?

Gambit settled onto the arm of the couch to study Rogue, drawing Kitty's attention again, and flicked out a deck of cards to shuffle. The repetitive sound and feel soothed his nerves, even as it annoyed Rogue. She narrowed her eyes at him. He ignored her and thought.

"We take turns," he finally said. "This week, you call the shots. Next week, I do."

Rogue frowned. "What do you mean?"

He measured her with his eyes, but she didn't seem upset, just confused. He put away the cards. "You mad at me 'cause I don't accept you putting your foot down, n'est ce pas?"

She nodded, slowly.

"I get mad at you for the same thing."

"I'll say," she muttered, giving him pause. She tossed her head. "So I start, huh?"

He eyed her warily.

"We need some rules then." She frowned again, not really looking at him. 'Calling the shots' was a pretty big topic. "So we just suggest or ask and the other has to listen?"

He almost laughed, but he didn't seem amused. "Non. This be real, chérie." His words made Kitty freeze. He stared at Rogue intently until _her _gaze faltered. "We ask to get out of it, and the other decides yes or no."

"Sounds like slavery." Rogue shifted uncomfortably.

Kitty mirrored the gesture.

He shrugged. "When we disagree, someone needs to get the last word. If you just _can't,_ you use a safeword. But only if you really can't."

Rogue blurted out abruptly. "Marshmallow."

He blinked.

She smiled a little at his expression. "That's the safeword."

"Cute." But he nodded, accepted. "Fine."

* * *

Logan didn't know whether to be pleased or horrified, but the two presented a united front, sitting beside each other on the couch, gloved fingers laced together.

"You sure about this, Stripes?" he asked for the fifth time.

Rogue lifted her chin. "I'm sure." The opportunity to say 'no' and have Gambit actually back down? How could she pass that up?

Logan turned back to Gambit, but the Cajun's face was hard and unreadable. "This backfires and—"

"It'll be our mistake," Gambit snapped. Then he tilted his head and said softly, "I ain't going to take advantage of her."

The whole idea made Logan nauseous, but he threw up his hands in surrender. "I'm here if you need me."

* * *

Kitty wasn't sure if she was supposed to feel guilty for eavesdropping, but Kurt certainly seemed to think so with his fierce eyes almost glowing and his tail switching back and forth while he opined vehemently in what she assumed was German (seeing as she didn't understand a word of it, except for _'sister.'_)

"Whoa, elf! Relax. I'm her girlfriend and I'm not going to _tell_ anybody." Not what she saw, not what she heard. She nodded emphatically to underline the statement.

Kurt's jaw dropped open and his formerly wildly waving hands stilled. "Not even _me?"_ he demanded.

Kitty snapped her mouth shut. Just when she thought she understood a guy...


	2. Chapter 1: on the inside looking out

**A/N:** Thank you **Chellerbelle, Warrior-princess, Sugahroc, **and **EvrAnge** for the reviews. Hopefully, I write up to your expectations.

* * *

**Safe**

* * *

_on the inside looking out..._

Rogue watched the play of uncertainty and concern on Logan's face and wanted to yank her hand out of Remy's. But she knew that would just make him angry at the apparently unfounded rejection, so she tightened her grip on his fingers instead, letting the pressure help her release some of her own fear and soothe the butterflies in her stomach.

Remy glanced over at her, startled by the motion, but with his, as usual, understated reaction. Slight puzzlement flickered in his eyes.

She lifted her lips into the barest of smiles, then looked away, back to Logan, smoothing over the rejection by shifting just a little closer to Remy on the couch. The action made her uncomfortable, but it kept her on safe ground, and she wasn't ready just yet to start throwing down the law and losing all the compassion and affection that still softened Remy's eyes when he looked at her.

Logan sighed. He seemed to realize there wasn't any reasoning with them. He threw up his hands at the both of them and ground out in frustration, "I'm here if you need me," then stalked out of the room.

Rogue crumpled the fingers of her free hand into the arm of the couch. She watched the give of the leather. She felt Remy's heated gaze studying her.

"Y' sure about this, chère?" he asked quietly. Very quietly. He seemed to realize she was having second thoughts.

But seriously, didn't he _realize_ how much power there was in controlling someone who could do so much damage? How many people had done it to both of them, either of them—giving them orders they knew would be obeyed and wreaking more havoc through Rogue and Gambit than they would have possibly wreaked on their own?

She peeked up at him from under her bangs.

_I really don't think this is a good idea,_ the Kitty-psyche in her head began.

_We all know _that, _pint-size._ Logan had his arms crossed and a growl ready to cross his lips.

Remy's psyche was quiet, as if waiting for her to answer the outside Remy's question in her own mind. She hadn't even admitted to herself yet whether she was _really_ sure. She had been sure she wanted to be able to put her foot down, but she hadn't really thought it through. She wasn't sure she even _knew_ all the things that could go wrong.

"Maybe y'all should go first," she finally managed.

Remy's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I'd think you'd be more comfortable starting."

Giving orders, controlling the both of them versus _taking_ orders and _being_ controlled. She could see his point, but...

Rogue shrugged. "It's a Thursday. You wouldn't have all that long anyhow." And she could figure out how this thing was done.

He seemed to be considering that, then abruptly slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

Her breath caught tight in her throat. Her whole body tensed. This was the very action that had started this whole mess this morning in the first place, and she was absolutely certain he was testing her to see how she would take it. But she said nothing. Did nothing. Just held her breath, held in the tears that wanted to come at how impossibly close (and dangerous) she was to him. She could feel his breath on her hair and against the _bare_ skin of her temple.

After a long moment, she could feel him whisper, "'S okay, chère. Not'ing bad is happening." His accent was thicker than usual and his voice soft and almost pleading.

She shuddered and lowered her head to burrow her face against his chest. Safe. Away from all that skin.

He hushed her. "It's okay."

It really wasn't.

But if she went through with this and let Remy lead out, she would have to face the consequences immediately and spend the next three days having him touch her, hold her closer than she was ready to be. She shuddered and pulled away.

He let her go, but she could see the skeptical vindication in his burning eyes.

Rogue didn't go far. She stayed on the couch, leaned forward to rest elbows on knees and face in her hands. _This is a bad idea._ The alternative though—the fighting, the push and pull, the hurt and the anger—that was all worse.

Three days. Breathe, girl, breathe. She could live with three days. Breathe in, breathe out.

"I can do it," Rogue blurted. It was just three days. Three days of leaving Remy in charge of their relationship. She glanced back over her shoulder and winced at the naked skepticism in his eyes. He didn't think she could and that just made her angry. Her temper flared and she snapped, "If y'all can do it, _I_ can."

The Kitty in her wanted to backpedal. _I'm pretty sure starting another fight isn't, like, a good idea._

_He's just trying to manipulate her,_ Kurt's psyche retorted. He was so sure that Remy's disbelief was calculated to make Rogue do just this and hand over control early.

_You know, kid,_ her own personal Logan started to offer his own advice.

Rogue glared them all to silence. _Shut. Up. My life. My choice._

She focused back on Remy again. He was shuffling cards, and she realized dimly she hadn't even noticed him break them out. He seemed to be waiting for something.

"They all done pestering my chérie?" he asked.

She glared at him instead. "Stay out of my head, swamp rat!"

He looked up, smirked at her. "Don't need in your head." She'd definitely managed to amuse him. "Besides, I ain't a telepath."

She grumbled a little. He had a point. She hated it when he had points. Taking a different tack, she reached for his cards to stop that annoying shuffling sound, but he pulled them out of her reach abruptly.

"Tsk, tsk." His grin grew to really insufferably proportions. "I be calling the shots now."

And that was that. He'd accepted. She smiled, just a little. Even if she had to sit back and let him indulge his annoying habit, she had won the argument.

_I suppose,_ Logan's psyche commented dubiously.

_Oh, shut up!_ The psyches were as annoying as the cards. "Got some homework to do," Rogue said while getting up.

Remy just nodded and got up with her. She could tell by his expression and direction that he was probably going to go work on his bike. Off chance, he might be heading for practicing his thieving skills in the Danger Room, something that usually earned her disdain or ire until he'd explained how handy those skills came in for X-Men work.

She _did_ have some homework to do, but it wasn't for school. Rogue settled in on her bed, kicked her feet up in the air, and started scribbling in a notebook. She needed to plan. It was one thing to be able to call the shots; it was quite another to know which ones she wanted to call.


	3. Chapter 2:nose pressed against the glass

**A/N:** Thank you all for your patience. Sorry for the long delay!

**Sugahroc57** (There will be some naughty, but it's definitely not on Rogue's list, and Remy is good about making sure there's real and understanding consent with anything like that. Glad you're enjoying!), **Warrior-princess1980** (She's the plan-ahead kind of girl. Remy, not so much.), **Mazzie May** (Ooh, boy. Hopefully, I won't trigger you. I'll be good and warn, but if it's any help, Remy will be getting consent before going anywhere on the M rating. Promise. Thanks for trying this fic. I'll do my best to keep it enjoyable but still real.), **Chellerbelle** (Thank you! I was trying to keep her panic realistic without going overdone. And the psyches are still one of my favorite things to write. :hugs: ),

**slightlyxjaded** (Thank you for the reviews. I'm grateful to know I'm being clear—clarity being one thing I'm not especially known for acing every time. And gotta love Logan. He's pretty much my favorite male X-guy, just like Rogue's my favorite female. Gambit's getting close to Logan though, just because I researched Rogue's love interest until I became fascinated and borderline obsessed. And _Thick as Thieves_ and _Blind Sight_ didn't hurt... Well, hope you enjoy the ride!), **kingandlionheart** (Thank you!), **luckyxtrick** (Oh, it will definitely be going somewhere. Writing the balance of it is taking a little work.)

Hugs and thanks to all my readers, whether you review or not.

* * *

**Safe**

* * *

_nose pressed against the glass..._

Remy wished he could be as understanding of Rogue as she clearly needed, wished he was more patient. He'd been patient on enough heists, dealing with locks and bars no more secure than the barriers his girlfriend used to keep the world at bay, but those security systems didn't have thoughts and feelings and a razor sharp tongue that constantly belied any admissions of trust. And that's what made him keep pushing and pressing when he really just needed to keep his hands to himself.

He muttered to himself a few Cajun swears and got to work on his bike. It was something to do, a tune-up, just to keep his hands busy and off of Rogue until he could figure out how to show her he wouldn't hurt her if she let him in. Regardless of what she said, that she trusted him or wanted him, he could always see that fear lingering behind her eyes. He didn't want to scare her.

The first time he saw her, _for real,_ she'd surprised him. Rogue wasn't a good girl. He'd known that instinctually and from all the subtle clues in her manner, but unlike Belladonna and all the other girls Gambit had known, who walked in his circles, played life by the rules he knew, she _wanted_ to be good.

He'd hated that about her.

He loved her temper, her fire, the way she played dirty, fought hard, refused to take crap from him or anybody else. He loved _her._

But he hated that sense of innocence and vulnerability lying underneath, not because he didn't want it, but because he could never have it. And thief that he was, he'd gone after it anyway. He thought somehow if she let him have her, he could have that innocence and goodness that was part of her, even being unworthy.

So here he was, nose pressed up against the glass, wondering why what she said was his and what really was his were such very different things.

He told off the bike. His itch was for flesh over mechanics, or at least the physical reality of her, regardless of how it came. He went to scratch it.

* * *

She was flopped out across the bed on her stomach when he dropped in, something he did often enough to be perfectly normal. "Chére." He kept the tone light and, historically, annoying. She claimed his stalker tendencies (casing skills) and sneakiness (quiet footsteps) were obnoxious.

She flinched. Remy froze. She hadn't flinched at him showing up by her bed since the day of the ticklefest that Logan grounded them from the jet over. (Totally worth it though. He finally got the girl.)

Then she glared up at him. "Give a gal a heart attack, why don't you?"

He didn't—couldn't—unfreeze. He stared at her intently until she began to squirm. Finally, he said slowly, "Do you think I'm not going to respect your boundaries now?"

Her mouth snapped shut so hard her teeth clacked together, but she answered candidly, all brash and vulnerable Rogue. "Yes."

It stung more than Remy would like to admit. "I ain't going to start touching you without warning," he snapped back abruptly.

Rogue eyed him warily, knowing him well enough by now to realize there was a caveat she wasn't seeing. She was right, but he decided not to tell her yet what it was or act on it. He wanted her to feel safe and maybe open up a little. Or a lot.

Remy hopped up on the bed lightly and nosily picked up her paper, effectively announcing a return to acceptable status quo. She scooted to one side just a bit to give him space and raised both eyebrows in amusement.

Up and down, down and around, on a rollercoaster we go. He couldn't help but think they were both overthinking this.

Then he read her list. He raised _his_ eyebrows in amusement. "Hmm. Not very _creatif,_ mais not bad."

Rogue scowled and made to snatch it back, but Remy, pleased at the reaction, grinned fiercely and held the sheet just out of reach.

"'No touching unless I touch first,'" he read loudly, then teased, "Just _knew_ you wanted to get your hands on me."

Rogue growled and redoubled her efforts. Remy stuck out one arm to hold her at bay.

"'No lying.'" He canted his head thoughtfully. "May have to get creative there."

"At _all,_ swamp rat."

He laughed and handed back the paper without reading further. Out loud, anyway.

Somewhat mollified, Rogue quit glaring at him long enough to scribble clarifiers to the no lying rule.

Remy leaned back, content to stare at her for the moment. "You ever think about exhibitionism?"

Her head popped up and her eyes went very wide.

"No need to focus just on touch," he pointed out reasonably enough.

Rogue set her jaw. "This relationship is not just about sex, _Gambit."_ She almost spat the name.

His temper flared. "You're the one _making_ it about sex," he retorted. "You want it and think you can't have it. Maybe if we just get on the table that we _can,_ then you can get over it already."

Her jaw dropped open, then snapped shut. He could just about see the steam coming out of her as she fumed. Somehow, they always knew how to light each other's fuses.

"I don't see you _getting over_ thieving or lying or anything," she threw back. "Just 'cause one of us doesn't like it—"

"Not the point." He cut her off sharply. "This ain't about like and dislike. This is about _you_ not trusting me if anything physical comes up."

_"I_ don't trust _you?"_ She spoke out of anger, but she had a point. Two way street.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Chére. You _don't_ trust me. But I ain't going to let you run away this time."

"You're the one always running away!"

Remy narrowed his eyes. "Name once," he snapped.

"New Orleans." It took her no time to think of it.

It took him even less to admit to something he'd never wanted to. "I'm _exiled,_ chére."

She stilled, staring. He'd floored her, but not for long. Her tone went dark with a bite to it and her eyes darker. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Didn't think you'd care." He said it bitterly. Or that she would believe him.

"Of course, I care about you," she said softly, faint hurt coloring the thick southern accent.

He studied her, nodded. "Don't mean you trust me."

* * *

"I wonder how long they're going to hole up in there," Jubilee said speculatively, glancing pointedly toward the stairs.

Kitty, Bobby, and Kurt ignored her, much more engrossed in the checker game they had spread out on the dining room table earlier. Kitty was winning, due more to the blatant advice of the fuzzy "bystander" than to Kitty's own efforts.

Jubilee waved her arms in between them.

"Whoa!" "Watch it!" "You could hurt somebody!"

"Yo, guys!" Jubilee ignored their protests. "Since none of you have noticed, it's _dinner_ time." And Gambit's turn to cook.

"Food?" Kurt's face lit up.

Kitty grumbled and went to trudge up the stairs. She phased her head through her own bedroom door to see the not abnormal scene of Rogue and Remy squaring off, sullen and shrewd respectfully.

"Gaaaambit." She drew out the word like a two-year-old, drawing two sets of startled glances. "We're huuungry."

Gambit's made a face to Rogue but clearly _at_ Kitty. "Et entrer the peanut gallery."


End file.
